by Jane Godman
“Quiet.” Far too quiet. Where the hell was Carly? “I should go. I’ll see you tonight.”
“Okay. Take care of yourself.”
“You, too.”
He ended the call and dialed Carly, but her voice mail picked up right away. Anxiety washed cold over his skin. Something was wrong. She never turned off her phone, and he doubted she’d start now with everything that was happening.
His stomach churned as he grabbed his jacket and pulled it on while he half jogged down the stairs. Once in the hall, he strode toward the door.
“Declan.” Warlow’s voice echoed in the quiet foyer like a death knell. Declan spun around and faced the man standing inside the study doorway. Cold fury snaked inside him. His hands itched to wrap around the man’s throat and choke the living shit out of him.
“Whatever you might be thinking of doing, you should know that I have your lovely Dr. Evans. Without instruction, my man with will kill her.”
His stomach bottomed out. He wanted Warlow to be lying, but knew from the bastard’s smug expression that he wasn’t.
Impotent rage shuddered through him. Declan swallowed hard and tried not to think of what could be happening to Carly right now—if she wasn’t dead already. “What do you want?”
Warlow smiled and swept his hand through the study door. “Come join me, Declan. It’s time you finally learn of your family’s true legacy and where you fit in.”
Declan dragged his heavy feet across the patterned tile floor. He wanted to grab Warlow, smash his fist into the man’s face until he told him where Carly was, but he wouldn’t risk her life.
Warlow lowered himself into the chair behind the desk like a king taking his throne. Declan sat opposite him. His gaze flitted to the edge of the desk where he and Carly had been together last night. His chest ached. Let her be okay.
“How much do you know?” Warlow asked, tilting his head to one side.
“I know that the families who have lived in Cragera for generations are killing men at The Devil’s Eye. I know that Meris tried to kill Brynn because she believed she would be granted eternal life and I suspect my father had the same plan for me. And I know that you are involved in all of this.”
Warlow chuckled, and Declan’s temper shot up another notch. “I’m not involved. I’m the leader. I gathered them, organized them, showed them the power that The Devil’s Eye wielded. Some of them required a little convincing—like your father—but once they see what they can have, the success that can be theirs, they all give in to it.”
“What is that power?” Declan asked, not so much because he was interested, but because he was stalling, trying to find a way to trip the man up so he would tell him where he had Carly.
“When you give life to The Devil’s Eye, just as our ancestors did, when you feed the ground it rewards with prosperity.”
“Prosperity?” Declan shot him a pointed look. “No one here is living like a movie star.”
“Those who are faithful find their success. When faith wavers, so do the gifts they were given. We’ve fallen behind, thanks to Ruth Bigsby. We had plans for Langley, but she killed him, left him to be found and drew the attention of the police. Our punishment for not providing a harvest was the discovery of the men at The Devil’s Eye, leaving us vulnerable. And now, because we’ve had to be cautious, look at what’s happened to Cragera Bay. It’s fading away, eroding. But the faithless have been eliminated, and tonight we shall offer our harvest, and once more the village will thrive.”
Andy. “Who did you eliminate?”
A scowl darkened his features. “Those bumbling fools who made such a mess of things. None of them deserved what I’d given, and I wasn’t sorry to lose any of them. Stephen Paskin did good work, I suppose, and he was easily appeased, but he had become increasingly reckless. The good doctor I didn’t trust not to turn on me, and Paskin’s wife I knew would turn without her husband to keep her in line. They had to be eliminated.”
“You killed them?”
“By my order if not my hand.”
How had he managed it? Even though Dr. Howard had been in the hospital, he’d been in custody. There would have been police watching, and Dylis Paskin had been arrested.
“You have a cop.” The idea popped into his head like someone flipping on the light in a dark room. It made sense. Someone with the police could have manipulated evidence, kept his partner fixated on the wrong suspect. “Miller.”
Carly had gone to see Miller, was probably with him now. Did she have any idea of the danger she was in? Panicky restlessness built inside him. He had to get to her.
“You have a good mind,” Warlow said thoughtfully, leaning back in his chair. “I almost killed you that night, back in front of your flat. Did you know that?”
The man’s words, spoken so casually, iced his blood. “Really? I thought you wanted to bring me back here for that.”
“Your father wanted that, and I followed his order because I knew he planned to betray us both. He should have left me Stonecliff. I am its rightful owner, not him, not you by some accident of birth. He promised me Stonecliff, but he left it to you anyway. I had the knife in my hand when that girl came running up. She saved your life. And as annoyed as I was at the time, I think it’s a good thing. You and I will work together very well.”
“You could not have misjudged this situation more.”
“If this were chess, you’d be in check. No moves left to make. No cards left to play, if you prefer.” Warlow leaned back in the chair and laced his fingers behind his head. “I have what matters to you, and you have nothing left to bargain with.”
“That’s not true. I know where Jonas Worthing’s journals are.”
Warlow laughed. “So do I. That housekeeper sent them to your mother, didn’t she? Your father was always far more concerned about those books than I was. There was nothing in those pages to incriminate us. But I suppose he feared any police attention could lead them to The Devil’s Eye. Or perhaps he simply let your mother go—he always had soft spot for her that he never did with the other two. Or perhaps he believed he’d get a son from Meris. Which never happened, and I must admit I played a part in cutting his chances short.”
“You killed Meris?”
“She embraced The Eye like few who had come before her—too much as a matter of fact. She even claimed to have been a descendent of the Worthing family—an out-and-out lie—and she challenged me. So I waited and one day I saw my chance. A quick shove was all it took to send her tumbling down the cellar stairs and then there was no more Meris. I should imagine she didn’t know what hit her.” He chuckled again and sat up straight. “Besides, she’d been with Arthur for more than a decade and never produced a son. I doubt it would have happened.”
“Why wouldn’t The Devil’s Eye give him one?”
The man’s gaze narrowed. “Perhaps he didn’t deserve one after wasting so much of his time on wives.”
“And killing his daughters wouldn’t have brought him eternal life?”
Warlow shook his head. “When one sacrifices blood, it must be a worthy sacrifice. A man’s first-born son, his heir. What loss would a daughter be?”
Of course, how had he missed it? “Meris tried to kill Brynn.”
“Meris believed she understood the power better than I. She was wrong.” Warlow stood. “We’ve talked enough. It’s time for you to fulfill your legacy.”
Declan wanted to tell the man to go to hell, but Warlow had Carly and Andy. He had to go with him if he wanted to find them. He glanced at the window. Gray clouds had blotted out the blue, turning the day gloomy, but it was still daylight. “It’s not even dark.”
“We operated under the cover of night to keep those who didn’t know of us at Stonecliff from finding out, but now there’s no one to hide from. Come, The Devil’s Eye is waiting.”
Declan didn’t know if his father got what he’d been promised, but he sure as hell got what he deserved.
* * *
“Home sweet home,” Miller said, dragging Carly through the front door of Stonecliff. Her wrists ached, and her fingertips tingled from spending nearly two and a half hours sitting in the back of Miller’s car, parked halfway up the drive from the house.
She’d asked the detective question after question, hoping he’d give a hint as to whether Declan was safe or not, but he’d ignored her while he played Flappy Bird on his mobile. Eventually, she must have started to wear on his nerves. He looked up from the small screen long enough to tell her that if she didn’t shut her mouth, he’d shut it for her.
Finally, he’d received a text and started the car rolling toward Stonecliff.
The house was silent now, no sign of life. No sign of Declan. Her throat squeezed. “Where is he? Where’s Declan?”
The man shot her a nasty smile. “Deciding whether you live or die, about now.”
He shoved her into the parlor and toward the settee. She dropped onto the edge of the cushion, but held herself tense. First time he looked away, she was going to bolt.
Miller flopped onto the chair nearest the cold fireplace and started another game on his phone.
Carly’s gaze darted around the room while she worked through her best chance for escape. She needed to lose him somehow, to get some distance between them. If she made a run for the stairs, he might not be able to find his way in the confusing passages upstairs, where every hall looked the same as the last. She wasn’t sure she could maneuver them, but she’d take her chance and slip back downstairs using the servants’ stairwell, or even double back to the main stairs.
Then what? Where would she go? She had no idea where Declan was, and she couldn’t go to the police. There was no way they’d believe her over one of their own. Still, she had to do something, and whatever it was would go easier if her hands were free.
“Can you take these off?” she asked. “I’m losing feeling in my hands.”
Miller ignored her, not even lifting his gaze from his game.
“Seriously, where am I going to go? You’re right here.”
Again no response.
“My shoulders hurt, as well. And my wrists.”
Miller muttered a curse. “I don’t know how bloody Paskin stood doing this all those years.” The detective stood and crossed the room toward her, a smirk curling at his lips. “‘Course, he had his perks, didn’t he?”
Her stomach jumped. He meant the women Paskin took, the ones he tortured to death in the round room.
“What happened to the women?” she asked, even though her mouth had suddenly gone dry.
His brows shot up. “Do you really want the gory details?”
“I mean their bodies. None were recovered.”
“I doubt they ever will be.” He flashed that perfect smile. “Fish food.”
Paskin must have disposed of the bodies in the sea like they’d suspected.
“You know he did get a reward for all his hard work.” Miller sat on the coffee table facing her. He fished the handcuff key from his pocket and slipped the silver ring over the tip of his finger, then spun the key back and forth. “How badly do you want me to loosen those handcuffs?”
Not that badly…at least not yet. “You’ve got to be kidding.”
A door slammed upstairs and Miller hopped to his feet. “Someone’s here.”
“I doubt it. This house is haunted.”
He shot her a hard glare, telling her exactly what he thought about her comment.
Footsteps stomped the floor overhead.
“God damn it, who’s here?” He turned and faced the door, exposing his back.
Without thinking, Carly leaned back, lifted both feet and kicked out as hard as she could. The soles of her hiking boots landed hard in the center of Miller’s back, sending him staggering forward. He tripped over the coffee table and landed hard on the floor, his hand slipping out from under him, face bouncing off the wood. The key flew from his finger and went spinning across the hall floor.
With a yowl Miller rolled onto his back and tented his hands over his mouth and nose. Blood flooded between his fingers.
Carly leaped to her feet, scrambled past Miller and dropped to her backside, fingers straining for the keys.
“Bloody bitch!” His furious words were chocked and muffled.
Her fingers grasped the cool silver just as Miller staggered into the hall. His eyes were wild. Blood dripped from his nose and mouth, those perfect white teeth broken and jagged. Grim satisfaction welled inside her only to be squashed by her swelling fear. If he got his hands on her, he’d kill her.
With the keys grasped in one hand she darted up the stairs, following the winding hall to lose him in the maze of passageways. His footsteps crashed down the hall behind her, drowning out the rapid thud of her pulse in her ears.
She turned her back to one of the closed doors, awkwardly twisted the knob and pushed her way inside the random guest bedroom. The furniture had been covered with white sheets to protect from dust, drapes closed against the fading daylight. With shaking hands she tried to fit the key in the lock of the cuffs.
“Where are you?” Miller’s voice boomed like a thunderclap from outside the room. She started and the key slipped from her sweat-slicked fingers and hit the floor with a jangle.
“Shit,” she hissed, sinking down to pick it up once more. She arched her back, and rolled her shoulders as she managed to finally slip the key into the lock. From outside the bedroom where she hid, doors opened and slammed closed again. Whether from Miller or whatever dwelled within these stone walls, she didn’t know. But either way she needed to get out.
Something was building in Stonecliff; she could feel it like a gathering charge. The hairs on her body stood rigid.
She twisted the key and the cuffs loosened, clattering to the floor. She let out a relieved breath, rolled her aching shoulder and flexed her hands to be rid of the tingling numbness.
The door crashed wide and Miller stood in the opening, bloody and furious. His dark eyes blazed and his swollen lips curled back from his broken teeth. “Now I’m going to make you sorry.”
He started to descend on her and she backed up, looking for a way around him to the door. She’d never make it and manage to stay out of his reach.
His hand grabbed her wrist and jerked her toward him. Sharp pain shot up her arm and she tried to twist free.
The chandelier overhead exploded in a loud pop. Miller let go of her wrist and the shift in momentum sent her tumbling sideways. Shards of glass rained down over both of them.
Here we go again.
She covered her head with her arms, tucked her chin to her chest, then risked a peek. Her breath caught and her insiders shriveled.
Thin lines of flame spread out from the hole where the light fixture had once been and across the ceiling like flickering orange tentacles.
* * *
The Devil’s Eye stretched out before Declan, black and expectant. His heart hammered in his chest.
“I thought you would have had the harvest prepared by now,” Warlow growled, walking around the edge of the bank to join Sean Leonard.
Leonard’s gaze flicked between Warlow and Declan, suspicion clouding his features. The man obviously didn’t trust him. Good instincts. “I didn’t want to risk untying him on my own. He’s been hard enough to sit on the last few days. I’ll be glad to get this over with.”
Crouched on the ground at Leonard’s feet, hands tied behind his back, Andy looked up at Declan. His face was a battered mess of yellowing bruises, dried blood caked around each nostril and one side of his mouth. His gaze was glassy and unfocused. Maybe he’d been drugged.
No sign of Carly.
There were only two of them: Warlow and Leonard. Where was the third?
Blood drained from his head in a rush, leaving him woozy. It was him, he realized. He was the third, expected to take his father’s place in their sick trio.
Well, they were going to be very disappointed.
Depending on how
out of it Andy was, it shouldn’t be too difficult to gain the upper hand and run. But he needed to know where Carly was first.
“It’s time,” Warlow said, lifting a black robe from a stack draped over a low-hanging branch. Leonard did likewise. As they pulled on the cloaks, they looked to Declan expectantly.
He shook his head. “No way.”
“You’ll do as you’re told, Declan, if you ever hope to see that Evans woman again.”
Cold dread trickled over him. “Where is she?”
“She’s waiting for you back at Stonecliff. If you do your duty you can return and find her unharmed. What you choose to do with her after that is up to you—provided you don’t endanger our cause. If you don’t do your duty, she will be killed.” Warlow held out the robe. “Take it.”
Declan snatched the rough fabric from the man’s hand, but hesitated before pulling it on. “I’ll give you Stonecliff. I’ll be your harvest. Just let Andy and Carly go.”
“There is no point in bargaining for this one’s life.” Warlow chuckled and nudged Andy with the toe of his shoe. “He’s dead already. The only people you can save are yourself and the woman.”
“You can’t kill me. You’ll lose Stonecliff.”
“And who will claim what should have been mine? That stepfather? Your brother? Sister? Who will assume your legacy, do your duty?”
Warlow had him; he couldn’t drag what was left of his family into this mess. Expose Allen or Katie and especially Josh to Warlow.
He swallowed hard, and pulled on the robe.
Chapter Eighteen
Carly stood too stunned to move, watching the flames crawl from the ceiling down the walls, Miller temporarily forgotten. Chunks of smoldering plaster crumbled from the ceiling, stinging the bare flesh on her hands and neck like hot little bees. They burned through the dust sheets. Tiny flames dotted the white fabric, devouring it.
“What in the hell is going on here?” Miller’s horrified awe snapped her from her reverie and she darted out of the bedroom into the hall.
